Chapter 5 - The Glass Wall and the Legal Shield
Two days after the delivery, the reality of their new life settled into the sterile routine of hospital corridors, NICU visiting hours, and legal consultations.
Word had apparently reached Patricia and Mallory that criminal charges were moving forward, because they decided to pay a visit.
They didn’t make it past the ground-floor security desk.
Audrey was sitting in a rocking chair in the NICU step-down room when her phone buzzed with an alert from hospital security. A photo popped up: Patricia and Mallory standing near the elevators, arguing heatedly with a security guard.
According to the security report relayed by phone, Patricia had demanded entry to the maternity floor, shouting, “I am her mother! I have every right to see my grandchild!”
Mallory had chimed in with, “And I’m her aunt! Let us up!”
Julian, who had just returned from grabbing coffee, walked into the room, saw Audrey’s tense expression, and checked his own phone. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Security already escorted them out of the building,” Julian said quietly, pulling up a chair beside her. “I told the head of security that neither of them is permitted on hospital property ever again. I told them… well, I told them she almost had neither mother nor child because neither of you called for help.”
Audrey closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath. It was harsh, but it was true. If Patricia had spent even thirty seconds calling an ambulance instead of scrubbing the floor, Audrey might have bled out on that landing.
That afternoon, a knock sounded on the door of Audrey’s hospital room.
A woman in a sharp charcoal blazer entered, carrying a sleek leather briefcase and a thick legal pad. She had sharp, intelligent eyes, iron-gray hair cut into a bob, and an air of absolute competence.
“Mrs. Vance? I’m Simone Vance—no relation, unfortunately,” she said with a dry, humorless smile as she extended a hand. “A colleague of Julian’s firm recommended me. I specialize in emergency protective orders and family torts.”
Audrey shook her hand firmly. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Simone.”
Simone pulled up a chair, sitting down and resting her briefcase across her knees. She looked at Audrey with sharp, analytical eyes.
“Your mother still thinks this is a family disagreement,” Simone said bluntly, opening her folder. “She’s been calling local attorneys trying to find someone to tell her how to smooth this over at Sunday dinner.”
Audrey looked through the large glass window toward the NICU hallway, where her daughter was resting peacefully under the warm lights.
“It isn’t a family disagreement,” Audrey said, her voice devoid of hesitation.
“No,” Simone agreed, flipping open her legal pad. “It isn’t. It’s a violent assault followed by a criminal cover-up. And we are going to treat it as such.”
Simone clicked her pen. “Here is where we stand. The district attorney is moving forward with criminal charges against Mallory for felony assault of a pregnant person, and against your mother for obstruction of justice and tampering with evidence. But criminal court handles punishment. Civil court, and protective orders, handle your safety.”
Simone slid a set of formal legal documents across the tray table.
“We’re requesting emergency permanent protective orders for both you and the baby. Zero contact, zero approach, mandatory stay-away orders from your residence, your workplace, and this hospital. If either of them comes within five hundred feet of you, they go straight to jail.”
For the first time since she had fallen down those stairs, Audrey felt something stronger than anger, stronger even than fear.
She felt a wall going up. A thick, impenetrable fortress of law and protection, sealing her daughter away from the toxic dysfunction that had nearly killed them both.
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“Do it,” Audrey said. “File all of it.”
Simone nodded, a small, approving smile touching the corners of her mouth. “Consider it done.”
